I said," answered the Lady Barbara. "Don't think that I'm
deaf to London gossip, and don't imagine that I'm the unsophisticated
child my father thinks me, merely because I acquiesce in this brutal
plan to marry me to a man I hate. I know how my Lord Farquhart
entertains himself. Not that I'd have his love, either. I'd hate him
offering love more than I hate him denying it."

The petulant voice ran on and on, its only vehemence induced by the
muddy ruts in the road. Mistress Benton, using every force to keep
awake, interjected monosyllabic exclamations and questions. The two
maids, exerting all their powers to fall asleep, gave little heed to
their mistress' railings.

The outriders, lured onward by an imagined maltiness in the air, had
permitted an ever-increasing distance between themselves and their
lady's coach. It was certainly some several moments after they had
passed a moon-shadowed corner that the lumbering coach horses
stumbled, wavered and stopped short. Sleepy Drennins recovered his
seat with difficulty, the sleepy coach boys sprang to the horses'
heads, Mistress Benton squawked, and the young maids squeaked with
terror. Only the Lady Barbara was quite calm. But it must be
remembered that the Lady Barbara would welcome delay in any form. But
even she drew back in some alarm from the masked face that appeared at
the coach door.

"Aaaaay! God help us!" screamed Mistress Benton. "'Tis the Black Devil
himself."

The two maids clung to each other and scurried into an anguished
unconsciousness.

The mask had opened the coach door, and his face was close to the Lady
Barbara's.

"A word in your ear, sweet cousin Babs," he whispered. "But first
order your men, on pain of death, to stand each where they are."

The Lady Barbara recognized dimly a familiar tone in the voice. She
saw Lord Farquhart's coat.

"Lord Farquhart! Percy!" The cry was faint enough in itself, but it
was muffled, too, by the gauntleted hand of the highwayman.

"Only for _your_ eyes, my cousin," he answered. "Only for _your_
ears."

"What prank is this?" she demanded, haughtily, and yet she had,
indeed, given her orders to her men to stand each in his place on pain
of death.

"A lover's prank, perhaps, my sweetheart," the mask answered. "A prank
to have a word alone with you. Come, step down upon my cloak and walk
with me out into the moonlight. I would see by it your daffodil hair,
your violet eyes, your poppy lips, your lily cheek